


Borderline

by TehRevving



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Dry Humping, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Slow Burn, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, and it’s me, but it’s a one shot, so there’s smut half way through
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 18:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20839976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehRevving/pseuds/TehRevving
Summary: A strange man saves you from an demon attack and helps nurse you back to health.My take on friends to lovers feat Dante from the Devil May Cry Series.Dante x femReader. Slow burn. Pining. Frottage. Dry Humping. Sex





	Borderline

**Author's Note:**

> Request from Tumblr:
> 
> I kind of love the "friends to lovers" trope, can I request that for Dante x Female Reader?

You couldn’t even remember why you had been out that night, the night when you first came across those creatures. Dark things with glowing eyes piercing through the darkness, with blades and sickles for hands, calling out for blood with otherworldly screeches. 

They advanced on you with their sharp teeth and their claws, surrounding you and cornering you. You had no way to defend yourself, you were sure you were going to die.

+++

The whole dying thing took longer than you expected. The creatures cornered you, slashed at you like they were trying to spill as much blood as possible rather than take your life. The pain was excruciating across your chest and arms, stinging on your face as blood began to run into your eyes. 

Just when the red haze to your vision was getting too much, when it was getting almost impossible to breathe and you were just praying for a quick death, you saw what looked like a man with long hair towering over you, towering over the creatures. 

The last thing you remember was opening your mouth to beg for help, but no words came out. 

+++++

You woke up in a bed that wasn’t your own, your body feeling tight, painful and unfamiliar. Your entire torso and arms were bandaged up, with a pounding head and blurry vision, but you were alive. Somehow. 

Moments after you awoke, a man with long white hair and a red coat came into the room. 

The creatures were devils from hell apparently, the man that had saved you, Dante had said. The creatures had torn your skin to ribbons, slashed at your throat, body and face. While you could still speak, your voice was weak and hoarse. Your face has seen better days, while it wasn’t the worst thing ever, you were pretty sure you’d never find a boyfriend now. 

Dante had explained as he covered your wounds with foul smelling ointment that no hospital would know how to treat your wounds, that without the proper treatment they would fester and cause you to rot from the inside out. That he didn’t want that to happen to you. 

You had no reason not to believe him.

+++++

Around a week later you finally felt strong enough to get out of the strange bed that had become your home. You found yourself in some kind of old building, done up with a clashing array of styles; some items modern, some ancient and antique and so many in the middle. He said it was his office and home, that he ran his own business. You were just grateful to be able to move around, even if it was with difficulty, and get back to some semblance of normality. 

Dante was a constant presence in your life, always there if you needed him, but he also kept his distance. Like he was afraid of scaring you or something. Admittedly he was imposing, tall and muscular and dangerous looking, but he was also an absolute goof and it was difficult to take him seriously sometimes. 

You had a lot of respect for him, not just for looking after you, but for being able to look at your ruined face when he spoke to you. That he was able to carry out a conversation like a normal person with you, you didn’t think you’d ever have that again.

You didn’t like looking at yourself in the mirror, you didn’t want to see the deep gashes crossing your face or the scarring. You figured that if you kept ignoring it, it would go away, even though you knew better.

+++++

A week later, the two of you had been standing around the kitchen, beginning to prepare a meal. Dante had asked you, innocently if you wanted to go home soon. You had fallen to the ground, bursting into tears on the spot. You didn’t really have anywhere to go, you didn’t want to go back to your shitty apartment and your shitty roommate, who probably thought you were dead and had thrown your meagre possessions to the curb. You didn’t want to go back to your dead end job, you’d probably been fired anyway; you didn’t want to face anyone ever again.

This wonderful, large man had tried to console you. He lifted you off the ground and helped you to a chair. Awkwardly keeping an arm around your shoulders, like he wasn’t sure if you wanted him to touch you or not. You did.

“You can stay here as long as you need to,” he reassured you, squeezing your shoulders gently. You could feel the warmth of him, the familiar scent of him, and you hadn’t felt so calm in weeks. 

It was at that point, looking up at his awkward face filled with genuine kindness, while you had tears running down your own hideous face, that you thought maybe you were falling for him, just a little bit.

+++++

The touching became more frequent after that. Soft touches, almost accidental. You would try and teach him how to cook, holding onto his hands to direct him, brushing against him to move him out of the way. He did the same to you, teaching you how to answer the very old fashioned phone that sat on his desk in case he wasn’t there, how to fill out the book for jobs. 

He was always very careful around you, and you figured it was because he was strong, because he was afraid of hurting you. You had seen him lift up the couch one handed once when he had dropped something underneath it. It should have scared you, but it didn’t.

Each time he brushed up against you, each time he brushed his hands across your waist to direct you, to move you out of the way, you couldn’t help the tingle that raced up your spine. You wanted him to touch him more, wanted him to use some of that strength on you.

Maybe you were falling pretty hard.

+++++

The weather began to get colder but you still didn’t want to leave. Dante did his best to help you, offering you some old, warmer clothes of his, now that you had stopped bleeding on everything you touched. They all swamped you, but you didn’t care, you enjoyed being surrounded by his scent. 

He asked you if you wanted him to go out and get some clothes that would actually fit you, but you had shaken your head. You felt safe like this, and you didn’t want to be reminded on how you wouldn’t be able to fit into normal society ever again. 

+++++

The weather continued to get colder. You asked him, in your now permanently quiet, hoarse voice if he would be alright turning the heating on. 

Dante had shaken his head and looked at you with a sheepish expression. “I’m sorry,” he’d said, “there’s no heating. I run warm, so I’ve never bothered. I’ve got some extra blankets though.”

You asked him for some more of his clothes to layer up with instead.

+++++

One night, about a week later, the temperature had dropped so much that it was noticeable. You could see your breath in front of you even when you were in the shop. The building was old and damaged, terrible for trying to keep any sort of heat in, even if it had heating it probably wouldn’t have helped much. 

The two of you were sat on the couch, watching some crappy movie on the tv that you didn’t care about. You’re wearing 3 of his shirts with an old, long red coat, 2 pairs of oversized sweatpants and multiple pairs of socks. You don’t want to ask for any more clothing, you’re convinced that your body should be able to warm itself up. You’re only shivering a little bit after all.

Dante keeps sneaking glances at you out of the corner of his eye, looking away from you when you notice and meet his gaze. 

Eventually he gets up from the couch with a sigh of effort, pushing himself up off the cushions as they groan in protest. “Stay here, let me get you a blanket.”

He comes back with two pathetic, threadbare things. You’re grateful anyway and try your best to thank him, he probably doesn’t hear your quiet voice over the sound of the tv.

Dante sits back down on the other side of the couch while you burrow yourself underneath the blankets and further into the couch cushions, hoping that you’ll warm up.

You don’t.

It’s probably 10 minutes later and you’re still shivering underneath the blankets, even more violently than you were before.

Dante sighs again and you turn to watch him as he slowly begins to shift on the couch. He slides himself towards you, lifts up his arm and wraps it around your shoulders. He pulls you against his chest and tucks you in underneath his coat. Suddenly you’re warm. 

You curl up against him, murmuring a quiet thanks that gets lost somewhere between the heat of him and the coldness of the room. He’s so warm, even though he’s only wearing a thin shirt and his coat. He smells amazing, and you can’t help but groan slightly in pleasure as his warmth seeps into your freezing body. The steady sound of his breathing lulls you into a sort of daze, you want to stay like this forever.

+++++

It happens every night, even when it’s not so cold in the shop. At first there was some awkward shifting and waiting, but now you just burrow into his chest without warning whenever you can. Pulling the blankets over the two of you to trap the heat in while you curl up against him. 

If he ever gets too hot, if he doesn’t like you doing this, he doesn’t mention it. 

+++++

It continues to get colder.

+++++  
One night when it’s been hours since you went to bed, but you’re still awake because it’s too damn cold. You were in bed, under multiple blankets and wearing so fucking many clothes, and you still hadn’t been able to stop shivering. 

You’re standing outside of Dante’s door, unsure if you’re actually going to go through with your plan for warmth or not. You’re not sure if he’ll even let you, you’re freezing though, and you don’t really have anything to lose. 

You rap your tired, frozen knuckles against his bedroom door.

It opens probably 30 seconds later, creaking on its hinges. A very bleary eyed Dante stands before you, his hair a mess. He’s shirtless and just in his underwear, you wonder how he can stand it. You force your eyes up to his face, struggling not to stare at his body, or the very large bulge at his crotch.

You try to speak but your voice fails you, luckily he notices that you’re practically shaking on the spot, your entire body convulsing with shivers. 

He yawns and then gives you a small smile. “Come here,” he says, putting an arm around your shoulder and leading you into his room.

Dante’s room is a decent size, a little bit messy but honestly tidy enough. There’s a huge bed in the middle covered with red sheets, and you’ve never seen anything look so inviting.

He leads you over to the right side of the bed, and looks you up and down, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Let’s get some of these layers off you,” he says and you look at him like he’s a fucking maniac. “Just trust me,” he says.

He helps you take off the ridiculous amount of clothing that you’re wearing until you’re standing in only a single layer, shivering even more.

He motions for you to get into the bed, lifting up the covers slightly for you.

You slide under the covers and it’s warm, jarringly so. The bed dips and creaks under your weight and you can hardly fathom it. This must have been where he was lying before, but there’s absolutely no way that the bed should still be so warm. You can’t help but moan quietly in pleasure from the warmth and burrow into his sweet smelling sheets. 

He walks around to the other side of the bed, You avert your eyes as he puts on some sweatpants that he picks up from the floor. He throws a pillow onto the bed that he’s gotten from somewhere, and lies down next to you. 

The warmth gets even more intense. You’ve never been so comfortable in your life. You can feel your eyes getting heavy, your body exhausted from trying to keep itself warm. You don’t have any energy left

“Goodnight,” he says to you. 

You try to say it back, but you’re not sure your voice is coherent as you drift off to sleep. 

+++++

You don’t sleep in your bed from then on, even though it’s started getting warmer again.

There’s not even any question about it as Dante guides you into his room, and his bed every night. You’ve never felt more safe and secure than you do falling asleep next to him, cocooned by his warmth and his presence. 

You think to yourself that even if this as far as your relationship ever gets, it’s enough for you, even though you know deep down it isn’t.

+++++

One morning you wake up to an unbearable heat, surrounding you from all sides and trapping you in. The bed is shaking, and there’s a stifling body pressed up against your back. Your mind, still sluggish from sleep tries to process what’s going on until suddenly it hits you like a freight train. 

Dante is still asleep, hard, and grinding against your fucking ass. 

Your body begins to wake up to what’s going on, you can’t help the unbearable shock of heat that tears itself through your body with each press of his big clothed cock against your ass. You can’t help but whine, can’t help but begin to push back against him. Fuck it’s bigger than you thought it’d be.

The urge to roll over, to grind your own aching core against him, flies across your mind so suddenly you’re surprising you didn’t actually move. You want to roll over, to straddle his hips, sink down on his big fucking cock and ride the shit out of him, it’s almost too much to take. 

You hear Dante groan from behind you, and it’s the hottest damn thing you’ve ever heard in your life. 

Shit, you can’t stand it anymore, fuck the consequences, you’re gonna go for it. You brace yourself, preparing to roll over but the moment before you do, the heat behind you disappears. 

Dante rolls onto his back and away from you. He’s breathing heavily and the sound makes your hips buck involuntarily. You struggle to tilt your head back to look at him. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of his messy hair falling in his flushed face, the patches of red spreading across his chest and the holy shit big tent in the covers. 

“I..” he starts, and you see his hand come up to smack at his forehead. “Fuck,” he says. There’s barely a moment between the sound escaping his lips and his body throwing itself out of the bed. 

He practically runs out of the room.

You hear the shower start up a moment late and fuck, you try not to think about what he’s probably doing in there but you can’t help it. You will your own breathing to slow down, will yourself to have some control. You try to still your hips but they don’t want to listen to you, the ache in your core almost too much to stand. 

You’re not going to masturbate in his bed, you repeat to yourself over and over as a mantra as you struggle not to rut into his soft sheets and bury yourself into the scent of him. 

+++++

The rest of the day is awkward, it’s not like the two of you could talk about what happened like adults. You think he probably figures that you’re horrified by what happened, or that he is. There’s no way that someone like him would ever want someone like you, especially with your ruined body. 

He still lets you sleep in his bed, though that night, he doesn’t pull you to his room like normal. Instead he sort of waits next to you, waiting to see what you do. 

You don’t want to sleep on your own, and shit, you’re sort of hoping that it happens again. 

He still lets you cuddle against him on the couch, lets you lie against him in bed but now he’s tense the whole time. You need to work up the courage to say something, to let him know that it’s ok. But you’re too scared of destroying what you already have together, whatever the fuck it is. You’re terrified of him kicking you out to the curb and out into the real world. 

You’re mostly healed up by now, but you don’t want to admit that you are, because that would mean thinking about leaving Dante, and you can’t face the thought, you just want to exist in this dream forever.

Your voice is still low and quiet, but it’s not too difficult to understand, it’ll probably never go back to how it was. It’s difficult to speak, but at least you still can. The scarring on your arms and torso have mostly healed into jagged, thick red lines that criss cross across your skin. They look horrible, but Dante’s baggy clothes cover them up pretty well. You resign yourself to never wearing short sleeves again, if you ever go outside of the shop that is. The gashes on your face however, are now your most prominent feature.

Parts of your eyebrows haven’t grown back, and they probably won’t. The hard lines, claw marks snaking their way down your face are horrifying. You’ll probably never be able to get a job facing people ever again, you don’t want to think about it.

You want to just stay with Dante forever, with him it’s easy. At Devil May Cry, while the very few clients that come into the building look at your face and they stare, they don’t judge. They expect that sort of thing from here, from this line of work. You think about asking Dante if he’d take you on as an employee, but that would involve the two of you having a proper conversation and probably the setting of boundaries, and that’s the last thing you want.

+++++

It turns out that fate makes the choice for you eventually. 

All you did was trip over the leg of a chair. You don’t even know how it happened, you knew the chair was there, knew that all you fucking had to do was walk around it, but your body had other plans.

You knew Dante was fast, capable of moving much quicker than a human, but you’d never really seen it in action. Before you even began to fall he was there in front of you, his arms tight around your waist as he held you steady. Your arms had already began to fly out to break your fall, but you just end up bracing them against his solid chest instead.

You can feel the warmth of him, the overwhelming press of his presence next to you. He’s breathing slightly heavy and you can feel the puffs of his breath against the top of your head. You turn to look up at him and see that he’s looking down at you. You hold his gaze for a moment and then he starts to lean down, a subtle tilt of his head that you might have missed if you hadn’t been looking for it. You lean up towards him, curling your hands into the fabric of his shirt for support.

When your lips finally meet his, it’s everything that you ever thought it would be. His lips are soft, warm and his stubble pricks against your skin. 

Your kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough before Dante is pulling away. You whine in disappointment, opening your eyes to his grinning face. “I’m sorry,” he says but there’s mischief in his eyes.

“Sorry for what?” You ask him. You’re slightly worried that he’ll apologise for kissing you, that it was a mistake and that he’s not interested, but then he wouldn’t have that sort of shit eating grin on his face, would he?

“For not doing that sooner,” he chuckles and then pulls you back to his him.

The kiss between you turns heated very quickly. Within moments of his lips pressing against yours his tongue is in your mouth and he’s pulling you closer to his body. You can’t help but groan against him, can’t help rocking your hips against him; he’s doing the same. 

In your haze of desire you bite down on his bottom lip and suddenly find yourself pushed back against a wall. You hadn’t even been anywhere near one. 

Dante pulls away from you, panting and feral as he cages you against the wall with his body, “don’t tease a devil if you can’t handle the claws.”

You’re pretty submissive normally but not during sex and with a surge of boldness that you haven’t felt in damn knows how long, you smirk up at him. “What if I want the claws.”

Dante curses. “Shit,” and his hips rock into yours. He’s hard and you can’t help but gasp at the feel of him. “Can we take this upstairs?” he asks, breathless. 

“Please,” you whisper.

Dante hoists you up and holds you until you manage to wrap your legs around his waist. His whole body is so large and broad that you struggle a little bit. His arms are a strong blanket around you as he begins to make his way to his bedroom. 

He throws you gently down onto his bed and then he joins you by climbing on top of you. He fits perfectly against you, height difference aside. With his lips against yours and the sharp jut of his hip bone pressed against your aching heat while he positions your thigh against his crotch. 

It’s stifling hot as Dante ruts against your leg, his body trapping in the heat of yours. You can’t get enough. He runs a large, calloused hand underneath your shirt, well it’s one of his shirts that you’re wearing, so he can tease at your skin. You run your hands underneath his own shirt, digging your nails into the broad muscles of his back because it makes him groan. 

You want more, you want everything, the heat is unbearable and you can hardly stand it. Wanting to speed this up, you reach between your bodies and start trying to undo his belt.

Dante gives you 20 seconds of struggling with the buckle before he’s lifting himself up off you. He rips off his shirt and throws it across the room, working on his belt and fly, opening his pants up but not taking them off. He has underwear on but it does barely anything to contain the large bulge of his cock. 

He puts his hands on the waist of your own pants, looking down at you with hunger. “Can I?” he asks.

“Please.”

He helps you out of your pants but leaves your panties on. You make a move to remove your shirt but he stops you with a growl.

“Leave it.” You stop in your tracks as his large hands encompass yours. “I like you wearing my clothes.”

You buck your hips up against him and he grins. 

Dante settles himself back down, angling your hips so that his clothed cock pressed against your own aching core. He leans forward to kiss you again. Bending your body in on itself slightly as you shove your tongue down his throat while while you rut against each other like horny teenagers. 

“What do you want?” he asks you, breathless with his lips by your ear. 

“Everything,” your reply, your voice low and hoarse. 

“Do you want to have sex?” he’s teasing you now and of course you’re going to take the bait.

You whine and nod.

“Tell me darlin’.”

“Dante. I want to fuck you,” you struggle out, your new voice not used to the throes of passion. 

Dante moans at your words, “your voice sounds so fucking good.”

You shake your head, you much prefer how it sounded before, when it was slightly high pitched and actually had some sort of volume to it, but you’ll take his praise, because you believe him. 

He snakes a hand down your body and you let him. Unable to help but moan as his large fingers brush over your panties. He rubs you over them for a while, lets you keen and whine underneath him while he teases you. 

Eventually he slips large fingers inside your panties and then begins to slowly slide them inside. 

You want him to hurry up and you start to beg for more. 

“I know,” he coos at you, “just be patient. You need this. Trust me.”

Dante stretches you open, the ache pleasant but nowhere near enough. It’s not long until your clenching around his fingers and trying to convince him to do more. 

You run your nails down his back, across his ass. Eventually you lean your body as far forward as you can and reach between his legs. You struggle to palm at his crotch until he relents his assault on you with a huffed sigh. You cry out when he removes his fingers, but then he shifts and almost immediately you can feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance. 

“Do you want this?” He asks you. He rubs the head of his cock against your folds, slipping it against your clit and making your hips buck. Sliding it back down and angling it so it catches against your eager core over and over again. 

“Dante please. “ you beg, nails raking down his back. You dig your hands into his ass, trying to push him forward. Your efforts just make him chuckle against your neck.

Finally he settles his weight down lower onto his elbows. He kisses the scars on your face, whispers your name as he slowly begins to push in. His whole body is shaking with the strain of going slowly, of trying to hold himself back. 

It’s tight but he slips in easily, swearing once he bottoms out inside of you, then groaning and laughing as you claw at his back trying to get him to fucking move. 

“I like that you’re rough,” he says because he didn’t expect it from all of the previous interactions he’s had with you. 

You just claw him up more.

Dante kisses you through the burn and the ache until you can’t stand it. Until you’re feebly trying to rock your hips against the large weight of him and begging for him to move. 

Dante fucks you slowly at first, his hips gentle but firm. Building a slow pace while your body gets used to him. 

It doesn’t take long before he starts to move rougher, before he starts to lose control. His fists clench in the sheets either side of you as he struggles to hold back. His strength and size out in full force, each snap of his hips almost pushes you up the bed. 

You fucking love it. 

Dante kisses over your scars, bites down on your neck to try and stifle himself. It’s everything you ever wanted as the pressure and heat builds and builds. 

It’s not long until he’s panting, muscles in his neck standing out, and you know he’s close. He adjusts suddenly, runs a hand down your body and presses his thick fingers to your aching clit and you can’t hold back anymore. 

“Come for me “ he orders and you’re powerless to refuse him. 

You bite into his shoulder to stifle your cries, to try and save the roughness of your throat from your voice. Dante groans and his hips spasm erratically before pushing deep inside of you and still as your body pulses around him. 

+++

Dante turns into a huge puddle of goo after sex. He’s warm and soft, pulling you to his chest, wrapping you in his arms. He nuzzles into your hair until his breathing turns steady, heavy and slow. He seems so barely conscious that you’re surprised he doesn’t actually fall asleep. 

It’s everything you wanted, being showered with affection you didn’t know you were craving. He helps you stand up on your shaky legs, helps clean you up afterwards. 

It’s with a sheepish chuckle and a hand rubbing the back of his head that he admit he’s happy the feelings between the two of you were apparently mutual. It should have been pretty obvious after the explosive sex of course, but it’s nice to actually talk about it like adults and have it confirmed.

Dante tells you that he’s not good at this sort of thing, at relationships. That he’s going to fuck it up without fail, and that you should prepare to be disappointed by him. His face turns downcast as he tells you that he understands if you don’t want to pursue this with him anymore, after his admission. 

You laugh, smiling at this loveable goofball that saved your life. He’s the reason you’re here right this second you tell him. That you’ve seen how crazy he is and that you don’t care. He looks past your flaws, past, present and perceived and you tell him that you don’t care that there’s not much he could do to turn you away. You throw your arms around him and tell him that you are his, that no matter what you want to try and make this work. 

The huge grin that appears on his face lights up your whole world. 

+++++

Being with Dante, properly being with Dante, now that you’ve worked out something that works between the two of you, it’s better than you expected. 

He gives you the courage to do things you didn’t think you’d be able to. He’s right there beside you when you leave the shop for the first time since you were attacked, hand intertwined with yours. He’s so much of an outlier, with his white hair, red coat and the way that he just towers over almost everyone else, that random people on the street hardly spare a glance towards your scarred up face, they’re too busy sizing him up.

He squeezes your hand when he notices someone staring, and he looks down at you with such adoration that it’s easy to forget about them.

You think you could get used to going outside if he’s there to help you. You think you might actually be able to go back to some semblance of a normal life if he’s there by your side. 

+++++

The next time you wake up to Dante grinding against your ass in his sleep. Well, you grin and roll over until you’re straddling his hips. This time, it’s not awkward at all.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think?  
Comments and Kudos Loved  
Come and find me on Twitter and Tumblr as TehRevving


End file.
